Habit

The flower of the Sun, I observed

Everyday unmoved, from this angle

In me, I conceived a Habit;

In it, I can find no more beauty 

The cadence of waves on the sea 

Filled the soul with a presence -

Every morning standing by the shore,

They inspire me no more 

In talking was found great delight;

Everywhere was a candidate to listen 

Even the plot was given away,

To it there is no more originality 

A continuous desire for adventure 

Burns in the sons of men

The 'new' found today is the best

Soon, something else replaces